A recent article discusses fifteen ways to cycle faster, so as to stay ahead of the e-bikes (via AmsterdamFietst). Some of the information is from a book called Bicycling Science. I had never heard of that book, but apparently it’s a classic which - among many other things - lists ‘some prescriptions for increasing speed at medium- or high-power levels’. These will not come as a big surprise: A combination of tight clothes, good body position and an ‘aerodynamically clean’ bicycle can reduce drag by 50% or more. Through training, a ‘basically fit rider’ can increase power by up to 30%. And of course, cyclists should properly inflate their tires. Reducing bicycle or body weight doesn’t seem to help much, at least not for cycling on a flat surface.

Bicycling Science is a technical book, but occasionally the cycling enthusiast gains the upper hand. For example, in a discussion of slope resistance, this observation pops up:

The author remembers riding up a hill with a maximum slope of 1 in 3.5 (grade of 30%), possibly Porlock Hill in Devon, United Kingdom, on a three-speed heavy bike (i.e., one having a low gear of around 36’’).

Much of the information in the book is too technical for me. Nevertheless, it’s fun to page through, if only for the intriguing graphs and for quotes like this:

Human observers are notoriously suggestible. When told that a given bicycle is special for some reason (carbon forks, selected by a world champion, designed for hard cornering), they easily convince themselves that it is.

And last but not least, the book has a great cover (designed by one Derek George).

Apparently, bike couriers with fixies and cans of Grolsch hold an alternative commemoration each year on 4 May – the date of the official war commemoration – to honour their predecessors who were active during the German occupation. Pete Jordan writes about this in his book De Fietsrepubliek. The commemoration takes place at a small monument near the Martelaarsgracht, which reads:

At this location on 4 May 1945, the last courier of the resistance, Annick van Hardeveld, was murdered by the German occupier. She was 21 years old. This sign is a tribute to all who fought against injustice and oppression.

The text is reminiscent of a passage in Pete Jordan’s previous book, Dishwasher. In that book, he investigated the history of dishwashers and discovered that radical dishwashers had played a pioneering role in the American union movement. To honour them, he put up pieces of paper at various historical locations, with texts like:

On this spot in 1934, dishwasher Ramon Bolasquez smashed the windows of the Waldorf-Astoria during a strike by culinary union workers.

And:

On this spot in March 1972, fifteen dishwashers fought for workers’ rights by staging a successful wildcat strike. And I, for one, thank them.

De Fietsrepubliek is a tribute to the Amsterdam cyclist. From the ‘possessed riding style’ of the bicycle boys who made deliveries for shops and laundrettes in the 1930s, to the organisations that fought for our right to cycle through the passage under the Rijksmuseum. Jordan writes about the anarchist reputation of cyclists and how the authorities time and again tried to discipline them; about the cycling monarchs Wilhelmina and Juliana; the antibicycle measures of the German occupiers; the fight for a bicycle-friendly city and the history of bicycle theft.

Perhaps these subjects aren’t new, but Jordan adds surprising details and new insights. For example, I had no idea that Queen Wilhelmina – when still just underage – appealed to the Council of State because her mother Emma wouldn’t let her ride a bicycle. Or that it was customary between the end of the 1950s and the mid-1970s in confrontations between youths and the police to unscrew the housings off bicycle bells and throw them at the police (tip: don’t skip the footnotes in the book).

Pink bicycle

One of the subjects Jordan has sunk his teeth into is the white bicycle plan launched in 1965. Provos wanted to make thousands of bicycles available for anyone to use for free. When the first white bicycles had been confiscated by the police, provos left flowers and painted a bicycle white at the statue of anarchist Ferdinand Domela Nieuwenhuis, near the Westerpark.

There have been at most a few dozen white bicycles in Amsterdam, but in the international media the project grew to mythical proportions. According to some, the white bicycle plan had been a fantastic failure; others claimed it had been a great success. The success stories were used to legitimize imitations: yellow bicycles in Portland, Oregon; purple bicycles in Spokane, Washington; red bicycles in Madison, Wisconsin; blue bicycles in Victoria, British Columbia; green bicycles in Tampa, Florida and pink bicycles in Olympia, Washington.

De Fietsrepubliek is full of such stories. Anyone even slightly interested in cycling or Amsterdam should read this book.

The original English version of De Fietsrepubliek, In the City of Bikes, will be published later this month.

The ‘traditional’ Dutch bicycle originates in British and French predecessors, Zahid Sardar argues in his new book The Dutch Bike. Still, manufacturers cultivated the image of a typically Dutch, utilitarian product that has remained basically the same because it didn’t need improvement. As Timo de Rijk notes in the preface to the book:

Whereas foreigners found the Dutch bike heavy and unwieldy, here it was considered solid and indestructible, and in return the light-weight aluminium bicycles from France were openly maligned as inferior and needlessly equiped with ostentatious and fragile derailleur gears.

In the early 20th century, there were 4,000 bicycle brands in the Netherlands. Sardar refers to well-known manufacturers like Gazelle and Batavus as well as local brands in cities like Utrecht. He discusses the origin of the omafiets and its connection with women’s emancipation, as well as many other cultural and design aspects of the history of the Dutch bicycle.

In addition to the text, there is a wealth of historical photographs, advertisements, a collection of great head badges and other material. Then, at about two-thirds of the book, Sardar turns to modern Dutch bicicycle design, which is a bit of an anticlimax: most of these bicycles look rather silly. Take for example the Van Moof (no match for the elegant Joep) or the OV-fiets (the highly practical bicycle for rent at railway stations and other locations) - not to mention e-bikes and wooden bicycles.

Against this background, it’s good to see that the hippest bicycles in Amsterdam are currently old (girl’s) road bikes. With derailleurs.

For some reason iPhones appear to be unable to show photos from the road bike set and instead show random photos from my photostream.